"Courtship, Shmourtship"

Like many of you, I went through teenagerhood embracing a concept called "courtship." I understood that to mean that I didn't "date," and that someday, when I was old enough, a godly young man would notice me, approach my father and ask for my hand in marriage. He would be charming, handsome, own his own wildly successful business and would, of course, sweep me off my feet. We would have no heartbreaks or regrets from prior relationships, because there would be no prior relationships. We would live happily ever after.

Okay, so I wasn't quite that idealistic. But pretty close. After all, the success stories the courtship proponents threw at me were very fairy-taleish. And at 13 or 14, I certainly didn't know any better.

My expectations shifted a little as I got into my late teens, after seeing a few "courtships" go awry and learning that guys made great friends, if you weren't thinking of them as potential husbands. But I still thought that by adhering to "courtship" I would be spared the kind of relationship-related grief that many of my dating friends went through. And for those failed courtships I witnessed . . . well, they just weren't doing it right.

Needless to say, in a moment, all of my expectations and idealistic notions crumbled. There I was, with a broken heart, trying to figure out how in the heck I got hurt. I'd followed all the "steps." I'd done everything perfectly. I couldn't possibly have fallen in love. But I had.

From then on, everything was different. "Courtship" became a bad word to me. It was a load of bunk, as far as I was concerned. I eventually met my now-husband, and we went through the motions of "courting" because that's what our parents expected. But by that time it was just an inconvenient, yet necessary, label. Our relationship itself grew out of much risk and faith and hope--more than I'd ever invested in anything before.

I knew something was wrong with the idea of courtship as I had known it. It tried to "protect" people from all the wrong things. It protected against taking risks, against suffering, against vulnerability, against laying down your life. It taught you not to do everything you have to do to make a marriage work.

All this ranting does have a point. :) The other day I was reading a blog wherein the writer referenced a sermon entitled "Courtship, shmourtship" by Joshua Harris. It caught my attention because, after all, Joshua Harris was the courtship guru who wrote I Kissed Dating Goodbye and toured the country with his pro-courtship youth conferences. I was pretty sure that the sermon name reflected some paradigm shifts not unlike those I experienced. So I went to Covenant Life's website and checked it out.

It's a good sermon. The thing he said that stood out to me most was "Guarding our hearts should not become a self-focused attempt to avoid ever being disappointed. ... If we attempt to guard ourselves against attraction or disappointment, we will end up cutting ourselves off from the good gifts of friendship and fellowship that God has for us. ... We're not called to try to flee from any disappointment in life. ... Some of you are going to walk out courtships that are not going to lead to marriage."

Granted, I'm married now, so on a practical level the courtship vs. dating dilemma doesn't apply to me anymore. But it was so good to hear truth being spoken on this topic. It's not always a fairy tale; sometimes you get deeply hurt and sometimes there isn't a happy ending. But God has called us to honesty, to faith, to risk-taking and to suffering for the good of others and our own character. This is true in finding a spouse as in all other aspects of life--if not more so. And pain is our very best teacher. The heart that has been broken and has learned to grieve, to forgive and to heal is the heart best capable of truly loving.

To listen to the message, click here. (You'll need to scroll down to November 20, 2005.)

I'd love to hear others' thoughts on this issue. Comments welcome, as always. :)